


Wedding Before Dragons

by Anonymous



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Dragon Clan, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Incest, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This part of the ceremony seems pointless to him, because they are already bound by blood.
Relationships: Ibuki | Clair/Wataru | Lance
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous, Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Wedding Before Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elijah_was_a_prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijah_was_a_prophet/gifts).



> _Prompt:_ "Lance/Clair: I want all of the fucked up incesty possessive vibes you can muster for this one. I love the idea of them being pressured to marry by the elders for preservation of the bloodline purposes."
> 
> \--
> 
> " _Shinzen kekkon,_ literally 'wedding before the kami,' is a Shinto purification ritual that incorporates the exchange of sake between the couple before they are married."

This part of the ceremony seems pointless to him, because they are already bound by blood.

Lance looks down at the shallow cup in his hands, smaller than his palm. It's heavy for its size, bone-white porcelain covered in thin blue designs, distorted by the clear liquid it holds. Lance doesn't need to see the designs to know what they are: coiling dragons, intertwined like mating snakes.

The shrine in the heart of the Dragon's Den is cold, rendered colder by the scrutiny of the eyes watching both of them. He's lost track of how long he's been kneeling here; his feet went numb long ago. The priest of the shrine stands to their right, and rows of their family sit behind them, silent.

Lance looks up and meets Clair's eyes. He's spent so long knowing that this day was coming that it feels strange now that they're doing this, exchanging one certainty (betrothal) to another (marriage). But it fits, he reminds himself. In every way they have been made for each other, like a glove for a hand.

The first cup is simple enough, the tiniest of the three, filled with clear water from the dark lake surrounding them. The water tastes clear, so cold his teeth ache. Clair drinks after him, and when she finishes he hears the hissing of scales as dragons gather around the shrine. They've made their vow to the dragons; There can be no turning back now.

The second cup is sake, cloudy. Lance's hands by this point have stopped trembling. Clair's have begun to shake in their stead, as if they are closing a circuit. Still, she drains the rest of the sake from the cup and does not spill a drop.

He thinks he would have still chosen Clair, even if the circumstances were different. He would still find her beautiful adorned with the white hood, meeting his eyes with a boldness that doesn't befit a blushing bride.

The third dish is the largest, and empty. The priest moves forward to hand Lance the knife.

Lance turns it in the light and watches the candlelight gutter across its silver edge. Then he takes a breath and slices his palm open with a clean stroke.

There's a second before the pain sets in, and he bites his lip, savoring it. Blood wells up and drips into the cup, and he counts the seconds until the priest hands him a white cloth to staunch the flow. 

The same knife is handed to Clair, its edge no longer glinting. Clair looks at him, and he nods slightly. 

Yes, there is no turning back now.

He hears her sharp gasp as the pain hits her, sees her pupils dilate. Her hand clenches into a fist after the cut, an automatic reaction. She blows her breath out in a controlled stream and opens her hand, allowing the blood to drip over her fingers and fill the cup. Lance watches their blood mingling—identical shades of red, identical consistency. Satisfaction throbs through him in time to his heartbeat, matching the pain throbbing in his hand.

Soon enough she's also swaddling her hand in the white linen cloth and the priest is offering him the cup.

His mouth fills with iron as he lifts it to his mouth. The scent fills his nose, and he can feel the odd temperature of it as it slides down his throat, too close to his own body temperature to qualify as either _warm_ or _cold_. He licks his lips when he's done and feels stickiness gather on his tongue.

Then he passes it to her, one-handed. One-handed, she takes it. She tips her head back, having to swallow more than once to drain the bowl, and her lips are painted a vivid red when she finishes. Unlike him, she does not clean her mouth after.

Clair and Lance rise to their feet and the priest speaks words over them, finishing the ceremony. 

"The clan's future is assured," the priest says to the gathered crowd, pokémon and human alike. 

The shrine's roof shakes with the thumping of dozens of tails, the dragons outside declaring their approval. The sound is echoed by the clan elders slapping their palms against the wooden floor. Lance and Clair bow to the ground, accepting it.


End file.
